


Here There Be Dragons

by Lasgalendil



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Agent Carter Spoilers, Bisexual Peggy Carter, F/F, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, POV Peggy Carter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 03:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10755576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lasgalendil/pseuds/Lasgalendil
Summary: And it would be--it would have been--such a life! Adventure, daring, a fairytale come true. But that was what happened, Peggy thought bitterly, when little girls read stories of Princesses in Castles, and imagined themselves not as the Damsel waiting idly to be rescued, but as the Dragon.





	Here There Be Dragons

Peggy Carter was alone.  
  
…again.  
  
But that was the price one paid to serve King and--well. That was the price one paid to protect the City Steve Rogers had died defending. Oh, she wasn't so foolish as to think Steve wouldn't've done the same for any place or populace, but that it was his hometown, the place he grew up in, the bookshops and libraries where he'd once read, the artwork still hanging in galleries and in homes, the alleyways and parking lots he'd been beat up in (and once--she knew, and assumed it had been many more times than once--behind that diner.) Steve Rogers was dead. But the city he loved--the city he'd lived and breathed in, gave his last living breath for, lived on. And Peggy would be damned if she let anyone--HYDRA, the Reich, or any other such ilk— lay a hand on her head. Lady Liberty may stand on Staten Island, and Lady Justice may look down from the courthouses, but Peggy Carter was the women stalking America's streets. And if she got her knuckles bloody, scraped her knees on cobblestones, or had to put up with an insufferable man's groping to get what she wanted, well. Peggy Carter could take it.  
  
...and, her objective complete, let them have it.  
  
Her dear mother had wished her ladylike a hundred thousand times. That spite and spirit had lost her a lover--lost her the love of her life. But then again, she supposed, if she hadn't been Peggy Carter, the adventure-loving girl who longed to roam east of the moon, west of the sun, the one who itched to join the SSR even while her mind worked puzzles from a desk, well. If she had remained Margaret Elizabeth Carter, had let the facade hold up, well. She'd be married to a man from the Home Office she silently resented, perhaps had children she didn't want and could not rear. Peggy's first love was a fight, adventure her fancy, and the thought of being tied down--even to those she ought to love, and indeed, did--well. It didn't bear thinking about.  
  
And that was what had drawn her to Steve, wasn't it? That he had took one look at a woman in an austere uniform and given her respect. Hadn't let his transformation (good Lord, had she grabbed the man's tit? She distinctly remembered grabbing the man's tit, poor sod. What the bloody hell had she been thinking?), his sudden swarm of suitors distract him from what he had valued: spirit. And even when it had been Barnes' life at stake, when he would have walked to Austria alone, the bloody dramatic idiot, he had trusted her. Trusted her skills and her connections enough to risk not only his life but the life of his lover, let the weight rest in her hands. And that, she knew, was when he'd truly given her his heart, when that responsibility--for Barnes' life, for Steve's death, for his entire reputation--had been hers to hold and cherish. And yes. It hurt, God, it hurt, to know the reason for his shyness, turning down all those offers of women of every class and color had nothing to do with being shy, or sheltered, but that he was married to another, had been, all his life. Just as she was married to her work.  
  
And she would married him. She would have married him, kept up that front for Steve and Barnes, given them children, even, if it were a thing they wanted. Because Steve wouldn't have let that perceived femininity hold her back, wouldn't insist she become nurturing solely because she'd become a mother.  She would have bearded for him, bearded for them both, and loved them dearly.  
  
But Barnes had fallen. And Steve--Steve had chosen to sacrifice himself. And the future, the bright future she'd envisioned for the three of them, Steve a Senator, perhaps President someday, herself the head of the SSR, Barnes, well. Perhaps he and Stark would continue to tinker, but the man had a face for the motion pictures. She could see him not on a stage, but on the screen, charming every woman (and man, whose fancy turned that way), with his blue eyes and strong jaw that put even Gary Cooper, Clark Gable to shame. And it would be--it would have been--such a life! Adventure, daring, a fairytale come true. But that was what happened, Peggy thought bitterly, when little girls read stories of Princesses in Castles, and imagined themselves not as the damsel waiting idly to be rescued, but as the Dragon.  
  
There was no princess, no tower or thorns, no dragon fire, no once upon a times, and most of all, no happy endings. This was life. Life alone. Without Steve. Her Howlies had retired or gone deep undercover, hunting the remnants of the Reich across Europe. Her mother and father, her two loving parents who saw not the woman she was but the girl they wished she'd be, sundered by the sea and a lifetime of secrets her service at Bletchley and the SSR must keep from them. She was a changeling, a stranger to them now, and she could no more bear to lie to them than smother them in their sleep.  
  
And now--  
  
And now Colleen. Sweet, sickly Colleen O’Brien. The gentle girl who did a man’s work, fought not on the front lines but from behind a rivet gun, who wanted none of the glory or fame, who longed only for love and peace. Dead. Killed in her sleep. The poor girl hadn't known, never saw or felt it coming, and yet--  
  
And yet. This is what came of loving people, when you were the dragon. Some knight errant would come, and take everything you loved away.  
  
At work she had a desk, a few files. Here a suitcase of clothes, some shoes. A toolkit disguised as a innocuous makeup bag. And that was the danger, wasn't it? You lived the lie long enough, you kept the legend going, well. You began to believe it. But dragons were dangerous, even the ones that seem docile, even the ones who imagined themselves--however fleetingly, however desperately—not as monsters, but as princes.


End file.
